Goodbye Blue Sky
by Psycho Hippie Number Five
Summary: Semi pre-movie. Rated for safety. When danger comes, you can always find safety in numbers. Sometimes that saying is tested to the breaking point. Soon to be resumed.
1. Prologue

I saw the movie last week or so with my friends and, to put it simply, fell in love with it. Maybe that's a bit of an exageration, but still it's what I'm about at the moment. It's kind of a change from my usual medium (blood, guts, and gore), but it has some scary elements so I think I'll be able to do it justice. I won't be able to see the movie again for a while, so if anything starts to seem inaccurate, let me know. The song at the beginning of the chapter is Pink Floyd's "Good-bye Blue Sky".

**Disclaimer-** I own nothing you recognize and have nothing to give you if you try to sue me.

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_Did you see the frightened ones?_

_Did you hear the falling bombs?_

_Did you ever wonder why we had to run for shelter,_

_When the promise of a brave new world,_

_Unfurled beneath a clear blue sky?_

The darkness was suffocating. Smothering and textured like moist black velvet. The air was so heavy it was difficult to move. The heat was bringing out a sickening smell: smoke, gasoline, decaying flesh. The urge to throw up was immediate and would have been carried out had it been possible. There was no sound in the dark. Utter silence existed as if the area had been captured in a soundproof bubble. A piece of sheet metal shifted and pain flooded. It wasn't the dull ache of irritating an already existent injury; it was fresh and sharp, like a sudden muscle spasm. The twinge caused 13 to flinch and clap a metal hand over her neck.

Wait.

She frowned and began patting over her body, examining the smooth cloth and ring of sequins sewn around her neck. So it _had_ worked. She stood, stretching and testing out her new form, marveling in the fact that what the Doctor had told her (How long ago was it? Hours, days?) could work. It was possible to transfer a soul. She wasn't supposed to have done it, the scientist had been very clear about that, but upon seeing what was happening in the war had gone ahead and done it anyway. She had stolen one of the crude dolls yet to be given a segment of the Doctor's soul, and had carefully stashed it and the blueprints for the machine that allowed the transfer. From there she had gone home and locked herself in the basement to begin assembling the appliance from parts she had been collecting. She'd made her own finishing touches to the flour sack stitchpunk once she'd had the machine assembled. She could recall lots of light and then nothing.

13 felt her way to the table's edge and dropped down. She landed on something stiff and cold; it was her best guess that it was her human body. She'd ended her life as fifteen year old Nina Harris and had become one of the scientist's stitchpunks. It wasn't exactly what she'd decided her goal was in five years in that "Where Do You See Yourself in X Years" essay.

13 hopped off her corpse, feeling around for the bundle of blueprints she had stolen. Her new hand curled around them and she hurried for the exit. After the difficult journey up the stairs and out the door, she looked down the street at the scientist's house. At least what was left of it. She sprinted inside and stared at the interior in wonderment.

Nearly everything was destroyed. Books lay scattered, the scientist's freshly dead body lay on the floor, not more than a few days expired. 13's eyes trailed up to the machine and the stitchpunk imprisoned behind it. She clambered up onto the desk, examining the suspended doll from outside the glass, memorizing his number, before losing the papers and tossing them in the air. They fluttered down in wayward flight paths, covering the dead scientist. Her head bowed in a brief prayer.

Finished with her last words, she scanned the room for the rest of the scientist's notes. 13 let out a small squeal of joy upon finding the book, hastily pulling it out of the stack and flipping it open.

_The machine is a success. Each of the soul split and transfers have been carried out without any negative effects. I believe the stitchpunks have received a part of me; some of the aspects had been surpressed. 1 is stubborn and defiant. 2 has been tinkering around the workshop much like young Nina. 3 and 4 are constatly reading all the books, another trait like my dear friend. 5 is perhaps the most trusting. 6 is peculiar and unable to fit into his surroundings. I believe he sees the world differently from the other creations. 7 is fiercely independent and has been created as a mediator that could manage the stitchpunks. 8 is all muscle and is intimidating, but not very bright._

13 creased her brows in mild frustration. The entry dropped off and had said nothing about the stitchpunks possessing human memories. She supposed it didn't really matter; hers were already fading.

She snapped out of her daze and took one last look at the doll. He'd have to catch up. 13 made her way off the desk and headed for the door.


	2. Chapter 1

Okay, so here's the first chapter. I'm not sure if I'm officially done with it and may be adding on to the end the next time I have time. Thanks to Darken-che-chan and Nova Bucker for favoriting this story, Dictionary-0 and 15animefreak15 for putting it on alert, and luv2muchanime for doing both of the above.

There is some stuff you should know about 11. She is not slow or any other thing, it's just that music is her language. She isn't very good at taking song lyrics out of something and arranging them so that she can actually have a conversation. Since she was not around the other stitchpunks she hasn't really had the chance to practice this. Also, since this is pre-movie, the stitchpunks are not yet in the cathedral.

**Disclaimer-** I own nothing you recognize.

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The earth was a wasteland. It was littered with rusting metal and decaying corpses and it was making 13 sick. She looked away, a sudden wind making the remains of the playground merry-go-round spin. She closed her eyes, feeling the same wave of nausea wash over her as she'd felt in the basement. The annoying squeal of the metal halted in a jam, jostling 13 and sending her against one of the handles. She stood shakily and tried to reorient herself, but found herself too dizzy and pain to do so properly and ended up doing a face plant in what was left of the sand.

_Plunk. Plunk. Plunk._

13 lifted herself up just enough to look around, using one hand to wipe sand off her face. The monotoned sound continued, making noises like a rubberband being plucked. Her eyes followed up the old slide and notice another stitchpunk. _No,_ 13 thought, still groggy from the blow to her head. _I'm hallucinating. There's no one else around here but me._ She laid back down in the sand, trying to recover.

"Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home?" a voice sang, presumably belonging to the "imaginary" stitchpunk.

_Great. Pink Floyd. I'm definitely hallucinating._ 13 propped her head up on her hand. "What do you want?"

"Come on, now. I hear your feeling down. I can ease your pain, get you on your feet again." 13 watched the stitchpunk come at her from the bottom of the slide, holding a rough cardboard cutout of a guitar with a single rubberband string attached. "Relax. I need some information first. Just the basic facts. Can you show me where it hurts?"

"I'm 13 and I'm okay. It wasn't all that bad. You're 11, right?" 13 asked, noticing the number on the pale blue denim, right on her forehead. She had tied a metal bottle cap on her head. The other stitchpunk nodded.

"Okay. Just a little pin prick. There'll be no more 'ahh', but you may feel a little sick. Now can you stand up?" 13 stood, taking the offered hand. "I do believe it's working. Good. That'll keep you going through the show. Come on, it's time to go.

The strumming of the guitar sopped and 13 found her opportunity to speak. "Go? Go where?" 11 paused, thinking.

"Others. More." She gestured between 13 and herself, trying to get the point across without quoting another song. "You, me." 13 took a moment to process the broken speech.

"You...want to find the others?" 11 nodded vigorously, bottlecap hat slipping. "Do you know where they are?" She shook her head.

"Not far. Saw many. Don't like many."

So 11 didn't like crowds. Said stitchpunk suddenly pointed in one direction. "They went that was? How long ago?"

"Day. More, less. No sky." 13 looked up at the gray expanse above them. "Catch up?"

13 nodded momentarily. "We should be able to. They couldn't have gone far in a day." 11 slung the guitar over her shoulder using the same frayed ribbon that held her hat on.

"Go now. Move quick," 11 said simply, grabbing 13's hand and helping her out of the sand ditch around the merry-go-round. The pair set off in the afore mentioned direction, carefully maneuvering the demolished world.

-x-

11 was the first one to pick up on the voices, her musically attuned ears detecting the low conversation between two stitchpunks. "Hear that?" she asked her traveling companion, stepping up onto the remains of a tire and looking around. 13 followed, standing on her toes to make up for the height difference. She noticed the two others scouring around in the debris and gripped 11's arm in joy.

"So, there really are others up and about," she murmured to herself. "Close, too." She threw her hands in the air and began to wave frantically. "Hey! Hey, you!" The other stitchpunks looked up, exchanged a delighted look, and hurried over, tripping over rubble in their hast. Unable to contain her excitement, 13 gripped the two in an impossibly tight hug. "I'm so happy I could combust!" she exclaimed with a wide smile.

"Oh, please don't," one of them chuckled and 13 released them. He then pointed to himself. "I'm 2 and this is 5," he explained, the two turning around to prove it. 13 clapped her hands together.

"I'm 13 and she's 11!" she informed despite the fact that their letters were in plain view. "And we're both really happy to see you, aren't we?" 11, a little dazed about suddenly being brought into the conversation, nodded and messed with her guitar strap. "11 said there were more of you around. Are there?"

5 nodded as 2 spoke. "There are. Would you like to meet them? I'm sure some would be happy to get such a greeting."

13 embraced him once more. "Oh, yes, of course! You have no idea how...worried...I've been...." _About you guys? What?_ she wondered, confused about what the thought meant. "Um, let's go!"

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Now that you've read, please review!


	3. Author's Note new

Thanks for your patience. I should start updating again soon.


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